Twenty Four
by HawkWithGlasses
Summary: Multiple oneshots of failed attempts of England trying to say "I love you" to America throughout the years. 24 chapters plus 1 epilogue. M for language, smut, violence, etc. UKUS/USUK Enjoy.
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings, beautiful Hetalia fans~! My name is Mademoiselle K.G and I am glad that you decided to grace my humble story with your presence. This is my first Hetalia fiction although I've been a fan for quite some time now. USUK is my OTP and I'm so glad to be able to write and get my ideas out of my cluttered mind :D Now, to explain my plans for this story.**

**Twenty-Four will be a series of one-shots of England's failed attempts at telling America his feelings for him. It's inspired by the song "Twenty-Four" by Switchfoot. (If you haven't heard it, I recommend it! :D) So, there will be 24 chapters plus 1 epilogue~ Each chapter will take place in a different time period and some might be reversed and have America try his hand at a confession instead. I haven't made my mind up yet. As a USUK shipper, (I DON'T KNOW IF THIS IS CONSIDERED A SPOILER SO I WILL PUT A WARNING ANYWAY!) I want nothing more than for these two lovely boys to be happy so yes, this will have a happy ending for both~ (OK "SPOILER" OVER!)  
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**Also, this fic will be rated 'M' on counts of violence, language and smut in various chapters. USUK/UKUS**

**-WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: Some gore-y content, language and mild 'Nazi Germany' bashing. -**

**Ok, enough for boring Author's Notes~ ENJOY!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters~! **

_Darling, don't be afraid~_

**_September 7, 1940_**

Screaming. So much screaming. An endless deafening ring.

The landscape of the great British Empire is forever altered, diminished to nothing but rubble and painted in red. Red and black. Blood and soot. The buzzing of Junkers and He 111's droned across the grey polluted skies, casting their intimidating shadows over the heart of all England. The merciless bombings of London were the worst of its kind.

None of the noise mattered. The dead bodies cast aside the desolate streets were all ignored by one man running; running and breathless. He had no confirmation or communication with anyone so all he was relying on was his gut instinct. The cowlick at the front of his hair bounced as his worn out boots padded against the gravel. All he could focus on was finding one person. His mentor, his brother, his friend, his lov-

The American shook his head. No time to let his thoughts get to him. His main objective right now was to find England and make sure he was safe. The search felt like a lifetime. An eternity until he found what he was both praying and dreading to find.  
>England.<p>

"Arthur…" the name escaped him in a whisper.

"ARTHUR!" He ran again, his chest aching with grief as all that ran through his mind was _'Arthur, Arthur, Arthur…' _

Only for a second did America doubt the identity of the person in front of him. Certainly this figure wasn't the England he knew. It wasn't because he couldn't see the blonde peeping out underneath the crusted blood and dirt matting his hair. It also wasn't the fact that he couldn't recognize the ever-prominent eyebrows that rested above his closed eyes that from memory, knew beneath those eyelids were eyes the most beautiful shade of green that he had ever seen. No, this wasn't England at all. Broken and depleted…looking so small. For the second time in his life, the mere sight of the Englishman had made him sick. His body was leaning against the wall of what used to be a building, arms lying limp at his sides and his head lolled over his left shoulder. America was scared to touch him, afraid that he would break and shatter into nothing.

"Artie...?" he called out, kneeling beside the broken body.

No response. The American's breath hitched into what would have been a sob until he heard a slight wheezing emitting from the wounded country.

'_He's alive!' _

Ever so carefully he inched his hands beneath the Briton, settling his weight across his arms, England's head hanging loosely over the crook of America's arm. Tears carelessly fell down the hero's face, washing his cheeks clean of grime and ash that polluted the air. He felt his heart pounding out of his chest. It was so loud, he thought that England would have heard it and woken up just to complain about all the noise he was making. A strangled cry mixed with a laugh escaped his mouth as he looked down and took a breath. Blood. There was so much blood. Too much, in fact. If Arthur were human it would have been seconds until Death took him for his own. Alfred quickly settled Arthur down on some moist dirt, removing his own shirt to roll up into a makeshift pillow to rest England's head. He had to stop the bleeding and all he had was a roll of gauze that he carried in his back pocket for emergencies.

With gentle hands, he unbuttoned England's uniform shirt slowly, his fingers dark with blood.

"Fuck…the blood is still flowing..." he gulped as he found the source of the blood.

The wound on England's chest looked like someone had tried to claw a hole through his body, the edges raw and tattered and the center a clotted bloody mess. It's a wonder his heart was still beating. Germany had attacked the heart of England that day, and everyone knows that the capital is the heart of the nation. It counts in the physical sense as well. London was England's heart. Weak and wounded but beating nonetheless.

He gulped, sending the rising bile back down his throat. His hands shook as he wrapped England's pale body with the gauze, blood still seeping through the bandages. America gritted his teeth; angry at the world. He clicked his tongue, regretting his last thought. It wasn't the world's fault that his Arthur was like this…the Hero was never supposed to blame anybody.

'_Focus on Artie…' _he sighed as he tied off the last of the gauze.

Kneeling, he stared at the limp body, the low rumble of bombs sounded like thunder in the background. Vision blurry with tears, he pulled off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms furiously.

"…'Fred?"

He thought he imagined it. After all, it was so soft and weak and so NOT Arthur that he almost didn't look up to meet his half-lidded gaze.

"Ame…ri—"

"Shh..England…don't speak. You need your strength." He interrupted.

The broken country's eyes flickered down to his bandaged torso that was nearly drenched in his blood.

"Fucking…kraut…arse—" He coughed harshly into his fist, seeing some blood splattered on it after he pulled away. Arthur's eyes widened yet said nothing. He looked back to America who was just staring at him like if he was a ghost. He raised his hand shakily to cup Alfred's face.

"Alfred—"

"No, Artie." He paused to not let his voice crack again. "I'm going to take you to a hospital to get help."

Arthur shook his head lazily. "Listen to me…need…to tell you…important."

Alfred's eyes were locked onto the British man's face signaling to continue. England tried sitting himself up but he gave up as pain wracked his body.

"Alfred…look…I realize that I have treated you like a child throughout the years but I—" Cough. Wheeze. Hack. Cough.

"…I just want to tell you that I…I…" he opened and closed his mouth in failed attempts to speak.

Alfred noticed a trail of blood dripping out the corner of Arthur's mouth.

"I love you." Arthur's gaze was like stone as he watched Alfred.

America felt like crying. He wanted to embrace England into his arms and coddle him to his chest. To smooth out his ever messy hair and tell him that he loved him too. That he had loved him for so long that it nearly hurt. Instead, he just shook his head.

"England…you're in so much pain…you've lost a lot of blood…you're…you're delusional."

England furrowed his brows and took a breath, "No. I love you, Alfred. Really—"

"NO, ARTHUR! You…you're just saying that because you think you're dying! Listen to me!"

Tears were falling shamelessly as he spoke.

"You're going to pull through this! I just know you will! You are such a defiant, stubborn bastard that you don't let anyone push you down without a fight!"

Arthur's breath hitched, " No, Alfred. I love you. America, I really do love you. I have loved you…so long…"

His voice trailed off as his eyes started to roll back. America panicked and shook his shoulders.

"England? England, stay with me!"

Emerald eyes met bright sapphire for only a moment.

"Darling…don't be afraid…" He fell back into unconsciousness.

The next time he awoke, he was cold and alone in a bland and lifeless hospital room. He gritted his teeth as he felt hot angry tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Before they could fall, he caught sight of a leather bomber jacket that he could only associate with one person. It was lying across his legs atop the white bed sheets. He took it weakly into his fist and held it close.

"I do love you, America...just let me show you."  
>.<p>

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xX

**AN: Junker J's and He 111's were German bomber aircraft during the Blitzkrieg of London. I chose the date to be Sept. 7th because it was the beginning of the Blitz and when ** **the bombings were at their worst.**

**I'm working on the next chapter now and I'm debating whether it should have some smut or not. It will come! Just not yet~ XD Also, please pardon if these chapters don't come in chronological order in terms of year...I write them as soon as an idea pops up and fits the the theme I'm going for. I hope you enjoyed it and your feedback is greatly appreciated! I won't know unless you review~! Thanks again for reading!**  
><strong>-K.G<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally, chapter 2 is here! Sorry I took longer than expected for multiple reasons. One, I had writer's block before I even started writing this chapter and two, finding the right songs to help with my inspiration took forever! And three, I was swamped with school work. I mean really, 3 lab reports, 2 essays and then I had to work on a presentation for one of my lectures. Insane! Also, I don't want this story to be something that I HAVE to do. Otherwise it won't be fun anymore. I'm writing this to escape my busy world for awhile and when I update, I don't want it to be crap so I try to get it as perfect as possible. Anyway! Enough with excuses.**

**Thank you to my first reviewers of this story: tinturnabby and JulietGivesUp! Your feedback and kind words were so encouraging~ So thank you TuT**

_  
><em>**Also! Thanks to those of you who fave'd and signed up for alerts, you guys are awesome! And those of you who just read my previous chapter, thank you for reading. ^^  
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**WARNING: language, punk!Iggy, /slight/Hippie!America, mention of RusAme, drug and alcohol use and terribly written smut (if you could even call it that) **

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN THE CHARACTERS OF HETALIA! **

**Enjoy~! **

_No Future for You_

_**August 14, 1977**_

Harsh guitar riffs bounced off the walls of the cramped up bathroom. The lighting was dim and the stench of smoke and chemicals were barely tolerable. Balancing his butt over the edge of the yellowing tub was the newly converted punk, swayed by the rebellion of his people.

Arthur Kirkland, the prim and proper gentleman that wore suits and sweater vests was dead.

Now, he has reincarnated into something wild and untamable; a force to be reckoned with. During this era, he would only go by the moniker "Art" or even "Artie" was tolerable (but only in America's case). With a cigarette proudly clenched in between his canines, England was massaging teal foam into his hair, washing away his blonde locks for good. He rinsed his hands and patted them dry on his torn denim as he took out the cig from his mouth to blow the smoke out and bobbed his head to the blaring music that was emitting from the small radio that was resting on the side of the sink.

His lips parted into a smirk as he sang along with the lyrics, "God save the Queen, she ain't no human being, there is no future in _**my**_ dreaming~"

Of course, before he wouldn't have spoken ill of Her Highness but a country can't help themselves when the majority of their people are focused on one ideal and emotion. And defiance was running strong through his veins. After a few more songs passed from his Sex Pistols record, he washed out his hair and smiled smugly, satisfied with the turnout of his new hair color. It wasn't an exact shade of teal but mixed with the golden hue of his natural hair, the color that decorated his head was now something of a dingy green. But he loved it. He gave a few poses in the mirror, flipping the bird at his reflection and flicked out his tongue, admiring the stud that adorned said muscle.

"Finally, I'm fucking done."

He walked out of his place, his studded leather jacket hung over his shoulder and his heavy boots thudding with each step. Earlier, America had called him over for a few drinks at the nearby pub and England said that he would oblige him with his company.

'_Gods know what he's doing here in the first place…probably to escape his own chaos at his place.' _He thought as he lit another cigarette and took a long drag as he walked through the littered sidewalks of London.

Respectable citizens and punks alike couldn't help but not notice the appearance of their rugged nation. The citizens would turn their heads away in disgust and scurry away, in fear that his rebellion was contagious and his fellow punks were in awe of his style and the unique color of his hair. Another smirk graced his features as he entered the pub and it soon turned into a smirk when the American came into sight.

Just by looking at the two, you would judge that they wouldn't get along because one was a hardcore punk and the other was dressed like a flower-loving hippie. Ok, well not so much flower loving but you could tell that he was leaning toward that Hippie movement back in his place. Even then, England felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of just his back. He was able to see the man's muscles from underneath his loose fitting shirt and it stirred something in him. England shook his thoughts away and walked over to America, smacking his hand on his back.

"Oi, what makes you think you can purify my place with all your flower and rainbow talk, mate?"

The American turned suddenly and smirked, punching England in the arm. His hair was slightly longer than what he usually wore, making it easier for other nations to confuse him for Canada (which he thought was strange), but other than his dress, his demeanor was still the same. He was still the same obnoxious, loud and hero-complexed idiot that Arthur was in love with. Not that he would admit it.

"Shut the fuck up with your tough talk, Artie~ you know I'm not into that lovey dovey shit, not when all my focus is on that communist bastard, Russia."

England felt his eye twitch. "Why do you have to mention him in EVERY conversation we have, Alfred? It almost sounds like you two are secretly fucking each other."

England noticed a small blush stain America's face but he couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or anger that he would bring up such a preposterous idea. He hoped it was the second one.

"As if," America dismissed defensively. "I'm just stressed out all the time so sorry if I snap at you."

The punk nodded and waved his hand, calling over the bartender and ordering two shots of whiskey. He pushed the glass over to America.

"Fine then, something to take the edge off…" he swigged his own shot.

America chuckled and drank the shot. "Dude, my edge was taken off like an hour ago~"

"What do you-? Alfred! You mean to tell me that you're bloody knackered? Again?"

The American only confirmed this when he gave England a look, and he could see the glossiness and red of his eyes, not to mention the dopey smile on his face that gave it away. England wasn't a hypocrite. He could admit to smoking out whenever he needed to escape and he could also admit to enjoy the feeling that came with the high. But what he didn't like was when America abused the same pleasure. All of his features were relaxed and his mind was never quite there whenever he would smoke his "herbal supplements."

America giggled, "Hey man, I still have some on me, want to share~?"

England shook his head; the last thing he wanted to do was get high with his former charge.

"No, keep that shit to yourself."

The taller male pouted and drank another shot of whiskey as England dropped his stub of a cigarette and stepped on it.

"So, why did you call me here?"

"Can't a guy just call over his buddy for a few drinks and not get questioned about it?"

England raised an eyebrow. America sighed.

"Ok fine. I was just sick of home and all the shit that was going on over there so I ran to the first place I could think of. So…here I am."

Emerald eyes widened slightly. _'The first place he thought of? Me?' _

"Well…I can understand why you would want to leave but it's not all that great here either—"

"Hey, are you wearing EYELINER?" America changed the subject as he got dangerously close to England's face to examine it. Feeling daring, England didn't move away or push America out of his face. He wasn't his old wimpy and "gentleman" self anymore. A predatory smile crawled over his lips.

'So what if I am?" he purred, letting the ball on his tongue flash behind his teeth as he spoke.

Now it was America's turn to be surprised. If only for a second in his hazy train of thought, he imagined what that little ball of metal would feel like against his skin.

He smiled, "It looks fuckin' sexy." He said pulling away with a tempting smile.

England playfully gave a scoff. "You are knackered and are clueless of what you're saying."

America shrugged; "Maybe, maybe not~ I'll never tell!" he let out another string of giggles as he drank another shot of whiskey.

At this point, both nations were getting tipsy after having more than a few drinks in their system. Over the course of two hours, their conversation was mixed with important national affairs and then back to their weird style of flirting with each other that neither was aware of.

"Want to go back to my place? I'll let you light up one of your fags since I can see you're coming back to your senses."

America nodded as he stumbled off the stool with a drunken smile and checked his pocket to see that his "stuff" was still in there.

"Sure thing, bro. Just lead the way~"

The sky was dark and foggy as it always was when the two countries were making their way back to England's apartment that he kept during this decade. He locked away all his prim and proper possessions in his house that was near the countryside. The nippy air made America shiver slightly and he kept up his pace closer to England.

In England's equally foggy mind, all that was going through his head were dirty thoughts that involved him, America and his old, creaky mattress.

"Sorry if it isn't much, my place isn't meant for keeping up appearances..." England said, his mind still elsewhere as he led America up the stairs in the apartment building. He just shrugged.

" 'S' not like I'm anyone fancy or important that you gotta impress me or anything like that. Ya did raise me you know~"

England shuddered as he opened the door. Getting reminded of America as a child while he was having sexual fantasies was not something that was helping his boner.

"I'm starting to feel a bit more sober…I'm getting more whiskey. You want any?" He changed the subject as he walked over to his liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

"More whiskey? Nah, I'm gonna smoke~" With experienced fingers, he rolled himself a joint and put it in between his teeth, patting his pockets as he looked for his lighter.

"Hey, do you have a light?"

England fished through his front pocket and pulled out his Union Jack lighter, turning on the flame hovering in front of America's face.

"There you go~" he smirked as he took a swig straight from the bottle.

America smiled and took a drag from his joint, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils. It didn't take so long for England to lose his sense back in his drink and America to his "herbal supplements".

"Hey, 'Merica~…*hic* my pants are feeling awfully tight~" America's thin eyebrows rose slightly.

"Oh yeah? You should fix that yourself~" he gave a shit-eating grin with his eyelids at half-mast.

"No…I have a better idea~" England sauntered over to America, whiskey bottle still in hand as he separated his lips from the rim.

"Come here love and let me show you a good time~" he slurred as he stood in front of the taller man now, showering them with the remaining whiskey and pushed him down to the bed. He settled in between his legs and smirked as he leaned over and licked a drop that trailed down America's neck. His tongue ring tracing the pulsating vein that he could feel quickening.

"Mmm~ I think I could get drunk off you instead of the whiskey, poppet~"

America shivered in pleasure as he felt England's hot tufts of breath pass his ear as he said those words. He was right about the tongue ring, it felt fucking amazing on him.

"Then why don't you, babe? I haven't had a good bang in a while…" he groaned as England pressed his knee against his clothed bulge.

"…and judging by that tent in your tight ass jeans, I guess you haven't either~" he purred as he flicked England's earlobe with his tongue and moaned aloud as the punk's groin brushed against his.

"It's taking all the strength in me to not just fuck you into the mattress right this second Alfred, so do shut up and let me enjoy this~"

England moved until the length of his body was pressed against America's. Bracing himself on his arm, he leaned over and pressed his lips roughly against America's and was pleased when he felt America's lips began to move under his own. He pulled back slightly only to find himself looking into the direct gaze of blue eyes hazed with lust and his high. He watched as America's lips curled up into a smile and found himself smiling back before lowering his head again and taking America's lips with his own. As the exchange of saliva continued, the throbbing in England's jeans was becoming more unbearable as the seconds passed.

"Pants…off, now." England grunted and soon felt clumsy fingers clawing at his zipper. Once his jeans were halfway down his thighs, he stopped America's hands from pulling them down any lower.

"I meant yours, love~" He smirked and pecked America's lips with another chaste kiss.

"Oh…yeah, right." America worked off his own pants, his erection standing proud in between their bodies. He had decided to skip wearing underwear that day. He thought it made him feel more free. England kept his smirk as he tore off America's shirt and spread his palms over his muscular chest, his fingertips brushing lightly against his erect nubs. America squirmed slightly, the drugs in his system made his skin ten times more sensitive, which in turn made the sensations ten times more enjoyable. Running his hand lightly down America's bare side, England took possession of America's lips yet again, running his tongue lightly over them, encouraging America to open to him. With a sigh, England's tongue slipped between America's lips, exploring the warmth of his mouth, caressing America's tongue with his own. Finally, with a groan, he forced himself to pull back.

"I'm going to fuck you hard into this mattress. Is that understood~?" he asked as he leaned over to the nightstand to take out some lubricant and a condom. America propped himself on his elbows.

"Why are you getting a condom? I promise I'm clean~"

"You want me to come inside you? And how do I even know you're telling the truth when you're fucking Russia?" he accused again. America rolled his eyes, too high to be offended.

"We've only done it like…3 times. Maybe 4, I don't remember. Plus, I made him use a condom each time. I didn't want any of his communist jizz in my ass." England growled as he was deciding against using the condom now that he knew. America giggled.

"Oh, Artie~ it's not like I'm in love with him or anything. It was just hate sex. You're much sexier than he is~" He said seductively and ran his tongue up England's neck, letting a moan trail out of his mouth. It was more than enough to make England forget about a certain scarf-wearing country.

"Fine, we'll skip the condom. We can show any other idiots just who you really belong to, eh?"

England slowly reached out his hand and wrapped his fingers around America's erection, when he started to slowly move his hand up and down America let out a deep groan.

"Oh God…this feels ten times better than normal! England!" he moaned, his voice throaty.

Pulling his hand away from him, England tossed the lube onto the other side of the bed and climbed onto the bed, putting himself in between America's legs. Squirting a generous amount on his palm, he slathered his erection with the lube and coated his index finger with the excess, reaching down and smearing it around America's pucker before sliding it slowly inside. He stopped when he heard America gasp and looked up to find his eyes closed shut.

"You alright, love?"

"Yeah, feels good," America whispered before realizing England had stopped. "Why'd you stop?"

"No reason", England chuckled before moving and twisting his finger in an attempt to loosen America up. When he thought that his muscles were loose enough, he added a second finger and then a third.

"Ugh..stop it…just put your dick in already…I need it~" America growled.

Pulling his fingers out, England moved into position and lubed his cock once more before placing the head at America's entrance. He leaned slightly over America and lowered his head to capture his lips as the head of his cock pushed against the tight ring. When the head slipped inside, America moaned against England's lips and it took everything in England not to thrust as deep as he could. He felt America push against him and slid in deeper. The feel of America surrounding him was almost enough to push England over the edge and he forced himself to stop until the feeling passed. Once he had himself under control, England slid in deeper. With America's urging, he was soon buried in his ass and stopped to give America a minute to get used to him. When he felt America push back against him, he started to move in slow thrusts, pulling out slightly before thrusting back in.

Pulling back, England watched America's face and could tell each time he hit his prostate. Knowing he wouldn't last much longer, England sped his thrusts up and reached between them with his hand to grasp America's throbbing member, timing his strokes to match his thrusts. Within moments, America arched up off the bed and began shooting his seed. The first couple of shots landed on his belly and the sight of it tipped England over the edge. With a last few deep thrusts, England cried out as he emptied his balls into America. He tried to keep himself inside America's body, but he gradually softened and slipped out. With shaky arms, he collapsed to America's side to catch his breath, a satisfied smile on his face. America sighed in his high daze and wrapped an arm around England's waist, snuggling into his neck.

"Waaaaay better than Ivan~" he said with a giggle. England sighed and pulled America's arm off him. He sat up from the bed and slipped his jeans back on. Noticing that something was off, America sat up as well.

"Artie….what's wrong? You didn't get to finish? 'Cause it sure feels like you did…it didn't feel good or what?" England sighed again.

That wasn't the case. How dare America question his experience with him, of course he enjoyed himself ! He just finished making love to the one person that he held dear and in reality this was just supposed to be a drunk fuck. He fucked America. Not only that, but he fucked up his chances with him as well. He knew that they couldn't be involved in any kind of relationship right now, even if it was just casual sex buddies. His heart just wouldn't be able to take it; not that he would admit it.

"It's not that…you…you just….you have to leave, Alfred."

_What? _America redressed himself in a clumsy and drunken rage.

"WHAT? You think you can just get me drunk, get me high and then fuck me like there's no tomorrow and then tell me to leave? What the FUCK, Arthur!"

"You got high on your own accord!" He tried defending himself. He loved America. He will always love America. No matter where they would be in life, he knew that his love was sworn to the younger nation so long ago. He had his hooks in him so deep, and he didn't want to leave. He loved him. He loved him. England loved America.

_I have to tell him..I love him. I love him. I love him. I love him. I fucking love him. _He took a breath.

"I love fucking you!"

_Wait, what? _

England couldn't remember a time when he couldn't read what was on America's face. Perhaps this was the first time. He didn't know, nor did he care. He just messed up. A slip of the tongue thanks to the alcohol.

"Fuck! No, what I meant to say was—"

"Save it, England. I know what this was."

His emerald eyes widened. "You…you do?"

America nodded. "We just had a one night stand. I get it. No strings attached sex. A clean break."

England tried to oppose, tell him that it wasn't true and what he meant to say was that he "fucking loved him" but he held his tongue.

_It's not the right time…let it go. _

There was an awkward silence for a long while until America sighed.

"Well, it was a good fuck. Thanks for the fun, England." He flashed him a peace sign and showed himself out the door. England stood in the middle of his apartment baffled and hurt.

_There's still time…I can save this…I can fix this…_

"…I need some air." He walked out and slammed the door shut, the only thing lighting his way into the dark alleys was the small glowing end of his cigarette.

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**A/N: I'm sorry if this was so wordy! Gosh, I didn't think it would be this long but after I started writing during my 3 hour break between classes, I couldn't stop. ; So, how did you guys like it? Good? Horrible? The songs that I listened to while writing this was 'God Save the Queen' by the Sex Pistols and 'Porn Star Dancing' by My Darkest Days. That latter song I used while writing the "smut" scene. As I said before, this chapter took longer not only because I was busy but I didn't have much inspiration in the beginning. And my inspiration comes in songs. So, if anyone has a song that they like and it's just "totally fit for USUK" tell me so I can take a listen! You never know, I might use it in later chapters~ haha **

**For the next chapter, I will be going back, way back in time. I already have my song for the next chapter: "It Will Rain" by Bruno Mars. I just can't stop listening to it because the scene of chapter 3 just keeps playing in my head. So I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if not well thanks for reading anyway! **

** -K.G.**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hi, everyone! First off, you might have noticed that something has changed: my penname. It used to me Mademoiselle K.G. but now I have changed it to HawkwithGlasses (for personal reasons). Hope it didn't throw you off too much when you get this in your inbox! Also, I have an account on deviantArt under the name CentralMadness and I post these chapters on there too. So just a heads up, it's the same person. I am she, she is me and we are all together~ (please excuse the crappy Beatles reference XD) SO! I'm TERRIBLY SORRY that this has taken so long to get updated. Finals are a bitch. That's all I have to say. I was uber stressed out with the last few days of school and so now that classes are over I am feeling freaking FREE. Like, on a scale of 1 to 10 on the freedom scale I am AMERICA. Yeah. (lame author is lame) ANYWAY..now that it's summer vacation I will have more time to work on Twenty-Four so yay~! **  
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_**Please excuse the weird way I wrote this chapter, America and England are going to have a lot of inner monologues and so...yeah. I was listening to "Your Call" by Secondhand Serenade while I was writing this, so if you recognize some lyrics in there, you now know why. ^-^**_

_**Thank you to all who read, fave'd, alerted and reviewed! I'm glad that people are actually reading my work! ;n; **_

_**Enough babble! Time to read the story~Enjoy~! :D**_

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><p>Everyday it will rain~<p>

_**November 23, 1772**_

"_America, what is this I hear about your rejection of Parliament? You are my colony; my charge and I cannot expect you to follow anything other than my law."_

"_Well England, you see…"_

"_I will have none of these 'Provincial Congresses' running about at your place. Do you understand? This is simply childish, my Parliament is clearly far superior—"_

"_England, wait I'm trying to—"_

"_No, America. You shall wait until I am finished speaking. Follow my example as it would do you some good…"_

"_England! Please just listen to me! If you are too blind to notice, I am no longer a child! I'm nearly two inches taller than you! You continue treating me as if I am a toddler and I will put up with it no longer!" _

_The Englishman was silent, his arms crossed as he stood in front of his younger charge. _

"_Are you quite finished with your tantrum? I have to leave soon and I cannot be late." _

_America nearly shook in anger. He was doing it again. England was not taking him seriously. His attitude had been like this for the past few months and he could feel it in his spirit that things were only going to get worse. He took a breath._

"_No, England. You're not leaving me again. Not this time. For I…am leaving you."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>October 7, 1777<strong>_

The rain was pounding mercilessly on the battlefield of Bermis Heights, New York. Soldiers on both sides were cold, hungry and ready for this war to be over with. They both knew which side had won. Now, it was all meaningless banter to see whose morale was stronger. But that didn't stop the British from trying to dominate, much due to their leader. And the same went to the Americans. Their leader would stop at nothing to gain freedom for his people.

England was glad it was raining. His tears could mix with the rain that fell upon his face and he could hide it from the generals that kept on bothering him about strategy tactics and casualty numbers. He was just holding onto a lost cause. America proved that point by "officially" declaring independence from him by having some of his people write out some sort of document the previous year and yet here they were, still fighting.

England's attitude about the whole thing was obvious to anyone who was within speaking distance of him. Albeit, no one is in a chipper mood when in the middle of a war but in England's case, his whole aura was just dreadful. His officials knew how dearly he held America in his heart and how he thought he was going to be his mentor, protecting his little brother always. What had he done wrong? Where did he make the mistake that made America finally decide to separate from him? He never had anyone before America and now the only person he cared for was leaving him.

_Damn it all…he chose me! Why would he leave me after he chose me? _

That question was burned in England's mind and that was all he could think about. Why? Why?

_Why?...Maybe…I could fix it….I should…I should talk to him. _

England couldn't take much more of it; the waiting. He was advised to stay behind and away from the battlefield just in case some renegades were conspiring to capture him. He scoffed at the idea of it all. He knew all too well that his general's tactics of keeping their nation safe was the complete opposite of what America was doing. No doubt in England's mind that America was fighting side by side with his soldiers since they were all fighting for the same thing.

Against their wishes he ran to the field; mud splattering his clean breeches and staining his vibrant red coat. He wasn't used to running as much so his energy was depleting fast by the time he stole a musket from the armory and hid between a few cannons that were at the back of his battalion. He moved in between soldiers to sneak a peek of what was going on. He didn't care that he felt like a child who was hiding behind his mother's skirt. He was going to run forward and confront his charge once and for all.

* * *

><p>America was certain that England was upset. Without a doubt in his mind, he could picture the British Empire ranting and raving about his next attack directed at the newly independent nation. He could see those green eyes blazing with anger and bloodlust. He could hear those hateful words coming from the Briton's mouth. His soothing and melodic voice that would sing him lullabies and read him stories, now putrid with the stench of foul language and hate equivalent to a million banshees screeching at the black sky.<p>

He was so grateful for the rain. It washed away everything; the blood, the hate…the want to go back to how things used to be. Back when he was small things were so easy. He and England would play together, learn together…love together.

* * *

><p>"<em>Waaaaaah!" <em>

"_America? America, what happened?" _

_The small boy sniffled, as he clutched his knee close to his chest. He looked up at the tree he was sitting under, a branch swinging precariously from its trunk, the edges splintered, giving the sign that it was too weak to support any weight that might have been strained on it, thus making it snap. _

"_I-I was climbing the tree! A-And th-then when I sat on the branch to get the a-apple…it broked! _

_The elder nation exhaled through his nose and went on bended knee to pat the boy's head. _

"_There, there. Let me see your knee."_

_America sniffed again and violently rubbed one of his eyes free of tears before he showed England his injured knee. _

"_Ah, nothing more than a scrape. See? You'll be fine after we clean it."_

"_And after some sweets?" the bright eyed boy asked hopefully._

_England smiled fondly and collected the boy in his arms, walking back inside the house. In turn, America wrapped his tiny arms around England's neck and nuzzled him, the smell of freshly cut roses filling his senses. He could hear the smile on England's lips as he answered him. _

"_Of course, darling. As many as we can eat."  
><em>

* * *

><p>America clenched his fist as the memory and cast it aside as quickly as it came. He was in the middle of a battle, there was no time to waste on faded feelings of the past! Those times were gone now.<p>

_Why can't he see that I have to do this? I have no choice….this has to be done in order for him to see me as something greater…something strong; something that can protect him._

I was born to tell you I love you.

_I am torn to do what I have to. This…this "rebellion" that you see it as…it's me showing my love you for you. You are so blind. Blind and deaf and stupid to what I am saying to you!_

I was born to tell you I love you.

_When you would leave me all alone…it killed me inside. Every day. I hated being alone and only having the memory of your arms wrapped around me at night. It wasn't enough. I can't sleep with the cold…I need your warm embrace. _

I love you, England, but not in the way that you love me. That's why….that's why I'm doing this. But you can't know this. Not now. I'm not ready. And neither are you. When I get older and stronger, when you can finally SEE is when I will show you. I will tell you every day how special you are to me.

So I will tell you that I can't stand being oppressed any longer. My people's anger boils my blood and their ideals along with my actions will lead us to freedom.

Seeing your face like that…broken, depleted, rejected….lonely; I hate it. I can't stand seeing you like this but I have to ignore it. I have to ignore the urge to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness. Things have gone way too far to back down now. It simply cannot be done. I will fight until things go my way.

I will be free.

I will be strong.

I will make you mine. Someday.

* * *

><p>Redcoats were flanked on his left and right. The Yanks were a few miles in front of them, muskets at the ready. He moved forward a few paces, only to be stopped by husky voices in the back.<p>

"No, Lord Kirkland! You mustn't-!"

England turned his head and replied curtly, "I shall do as I like."

With all the commotion of whether or not the men should shoot at an approaching target, America made his way to the front to see who it was exactly that they were talking about.

_England…._

"No, Don't shoot! I'll go. I'll go talk to him!"

"But Sir, he is armed! He might try to—"

"No, he wouldn't. England's not like that. He wouldn't try to sneak up and kill me."

_If he really wanted to then he would just do it. _

They met in the middle, weapons to their sides as they stopped some feet away from each other. It was England who spoke first.

"America, just…answer me…why? Why are you leaving me? What did I do? That's all I want to know!"

Those blue hues that he loved so much never looked as cold as they did now when he felt that they bore into his green eyes. As if they were questioning his sincerity.

"You know why…"

As if he no longer trusted the British Empire to take care of him. Shunning away everything; everything that was England. He didn't recognize the boy that was standing in front of him. This was a stranger. A stranger with America's face.

_Who is this? _

_What have they done with America?_

_My sweet, precious America? _

Uncontainable rage filled his body and the only outlet he could find was to charge. Charge and destroy all that was in his path. America. He would destroy all the defiance in his being. Break him down until nothing was left, nothing but obedience and submission. He could do it. He could tear him down and bring him back up to British expectations. It's been done before. He had done it before to other colonies. There was only one problem. America was not like the other colonies. England had raised him and shared his culture with him. He was given the chance to know him and love him. He was the only person that had ever given England the time of day. The only person that England was able to open his heart to, and be consumed with the warmth and happiness that was America's love. The taste was now bittersweet on England's tongue. He didn't know love. Not anymore. Deep down, he knew that he was destined to face the world alone. Eventually the time will come when he fades away and no one will care or even notice when he is finally erased from the world. And it would have been all America's fault.

No. No, it wouldn't.

England stopped running and knocked America's musket out of his hands with his bayonet. His chest heaved as he fought to catch his breath and just stared at his former charge. There standing before him, was the one person who had the power to break him down to nothing. And he was succeeding. He shook his head and dropped his gun, in turn, falling to his knees.

"Why, America? Why? Can't you see that I was just trying to protect you? How could you choose me and then leave me? It was all a joke, wasn't it? Everything…You conniving bastard! You were leading me on this entire time, weren't you? 'Oh, let's make England think that he finally has some who cares about him and then break him into as many pieces as possible!' Hahaha! Good show, lad! I have to say that I'm quite surprised that you—"

SLAP.

America's hand stung as his chest heaved up and down as he panted. England's words hurt him. How dare he think that he was _pretending_ to love him? This has to stop. NOW. His throat was dry and his eyes were wet. But with renewed strength, he stood tall and let his hand return back to his side as he kept a straight face.

"I'm done here. I don't care if you're not but I am. I don't want you here anymore. You know what you did."

_You made me fall in love with you._

"I don't want to see you."

_I don't want you to see me cry._

"I don't want to hear you."

_I don't think I can bear it._

"I am no longer your little brother."

_I want to be so much more…._

"I am independent."

_I am independent…_

England stared up at him with tears in his eyes and the absolute look of someone who was heartbroken.

_America, I'm sorry so sorry….please come back to me. Don't hate me. I'll do anything, anything if you just come back to me and love me. I need you so much. I want to think that you need me too. You…you're the only person that has ever loved me…._

_..I never felt more pain than I have today. I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I have no soul. I am just an empty vessel. _

_A hollow Empire. Doomed to his fate of solitude. _

"So be it…" 

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So...how did you all like it? Sorry if it's a tad short. I know it's bad to say but I'm writing this story as I go along and so..yeah..ugh! I can never write what I want to say ;~; I kinda have an idea of what I want to do for the next chapter so..until then! <strong>


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